


Reconditioning - a Logan/Victor shortfic

by SubverbalDreams



Category: Victor Creed - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), Wolverine (Origins)
Genre: Brainwashing, Claustrophobia, Lannisters got nothing on these 2 when it comes to incest and dysfunction, Logan - Freeform, Logan Whump, M/M, Psychological Torture, Sabretooth - Freeform, Torture, Victor Creed - Freeform, Victor's incestuous yearnings, Whump, Wolverine - Freeform, brothercest, creepy snuggling, m/m - Freeform, thank you barb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubverbalDreams/pseuds/SubverbalDreams
Summary: I had a rough week and took it out on Logan…like EVERY SINGLE person who’s ever written anything about Logan does, I guess?But not to worry, Victor will kiss and make better.Warning for: Victor’s incestuous yearnings, torture, brainwashing techniques, violence, and creepy snuggling





	Reconditioning - a Logan/Victor shortfic

**Author's Note:**

> [ Barbaricyawp ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaricyawp/pseuds/barbaricyawp) started these Torture Tuesday prompts on Tumblr and I haven't been the same, since.

Logan’s last shriek made the speakers whine until Stryker turned the volume down. Victor watched over Stryker’s shoulder as the staticky, black and white version of his brother slumped to the floor of his tiny chamber, a trembling ball of blood-streaked muscle. With his wrists chained to his waist, he’d managed to put some slices in the 7 foot thick concrete walls. Mostly, he’d just managed to cut himself.

“You want to go to him,” Stryker said. Didn’t even turn around, but he knew. Maybe he’d always known. Logan had tried to play the normalcy game, but Victor couldn’t give two shits what anyone thought. _Tongues don’t wag too good when they’re cut out, Jimmy_.

His brother hadn’t seen the humor. He never did.

“Go on,” Stryker said. “I want to see if he remembers you.”

Victor smirked, a hard line that bore no room for the thought of what it would do to him the day Logan _didn't_ remember him. “You gonna send in a team if I have trouble?”

Stryker dipped his chin. That look that said he was superior, Victor was an animal, he held the reins. Victors hard smile turned to a baring of teeth.

“if it’s too much trouble, then don’t go.”

To that, there was really no response.

Victor went.

——

Nineteen levels underground and through a rat’s maze of cramped halls, Victor was let through a boulder-thick vault door into a room that was always watched, but never occupied: a safety net in case Weapon X got out of his deprivation cell. Victor’s blood was sizzling in his veins by the time the trap door to the lower chamber opened. Logan’s heartrate never changed as Victor hopped down into the tiny space.

They’d hosed down the chamber (and Logan) just a few hours ago, but every pore in the concrete stank of terror. Logan had curled into a fetal position, shivering. 

No...not just that.

Crying.

Victor looked without pity on the naked, broken thing he had raised up from a pup. His little Jimmy, who had shivered and wept when they were fugitives sleeping in cold woods for months on end. Victor had been his everything, in those days.

Sometimes that was how it went down. Shit coming around full circle, and all that.

Victor crouched and hooked a matted chunk of hair with his claws, pushed it off his little brother’s forehead. Logan lurched upward with a scream, thrashing his upper body to try and get his claws in range of Victor. Even in such cramped quarters, it was child’s play to dodge. Victor got behind his brother with ease, wrapped him in a bear hug and squeezed until his wild thrashing stopped. 

Logan’s smell was overpowering; there was only so much that a high pressure hose could manage. He smelled like himself, though. No chemicals; his body would just expel them. Everything they’d done to him was with light and sound, and some whizbang they plugged him into him each day that made him experience “simulations.” Over the weeks, Victor had watched his brother crumble. Watched him lose his defiance. Lose his words.

Lose his mind.

It took a few false starts, but eventually Logan’s struggles morphed back into shakes. He sank back against Victor, knees pulled up to his chest. Every breath was expelled as a bestial grunt.

“That’s better,” Victor rumbled, then clung tight as Logan bucked. “Shh, shh.” Victor rocked him and shushed him, until they were back to the semi-calmed grunts. Fuckin’ cold in the cell; that might’ve been the only reason Logan was pressing back against him. Still kind of a turn-on. 

<zz _zzht > “Ask him.” <kkhhh> _

Stryker’s voice came over the speakers, thick with static. 

Logan’s scream just then was nearly intelligible. Victor snarled, furious as he wrestled his brother back to the ground and pinned him down. Logan kept struggling, wild at the sound of his tormentor’s voice.

“ _Fuckin’ sonofabitch,_ ” Victor hissed. Logan was making it near impossible to keep acting calm. He was in pieces, and Victor wanted to take those pieces, make them bleed, and paint the walls with them. He turned his face to where he knew the camera watched, brandished his claws, then drove them into Logan’s upper abdomen and _ripped_. Blood sprayed onto Victor’s face and he grinned, imagining how Stryker must be pissing himself right now.

The severe wound brought Logan back focus. He looked down at his belly, face soft with confusion that quickly melted into fury. Logan’s fists clenched—but his hazelnut eyes widened in absolute horror as six adamantium blades came snapping out from between his own knuckles. 

Logan’s mouth stretched in a scream. He opened his hands and shook them, as if he could make himself drop the blades. He tried to scuttle backward, but Victor pinned him and slapped a hand over his mouth. The cell was too fucking small for any sound that loud.

Logan’s mouth moved beneath his palm. Begging. He’d been doing that a lot lately. 

_Please. Please. Please._

Eye contact. So much of it, and suddenly Victor realized how much he’d missed Logan’s eyes. He should spend more time down here, really.

“Who am I?” Victor asked.

A stilted head shake. The smell said more than words. It wasn’t recognition, but something was still knocking around in that scrambled brain. Some memory.

Logan had stopped trying to scream, so Victor let his hand slide down to cup Logan’s scruffy jaw. He tucked his face into Logan’s throat, breathed in his scent. It wasn’t enough, so he opened his mouth and sucked the thin flesh over Logan’s pulse. 

Logan’s breath shuddered, but he didn’t pull away. Those little grunts were almost words.

_Please. Please._

Shit. It had been weeks since Logan had been allowed to touch anyone. _Years_ since they had touched each other, except for the fighting.

Way too long since they’d had this.

Logan’s chest heaved over a sob. He turned his head so that his chin rested on the side of Victor’s face, tucking Victor into his neck. 

It was...nice. It felt good. 

Until a name came melting off of Logan’s lips like liquid poison.

“ _Kayla._ ”

Victor forgot the low ceiling when he surged to his feet, cracked his skull on it and didn’t give a fuck about the pain. He laid into Logan with tooth and claw, kicked him until his teeth decorated the floor, didn’t stop until a torrent of cold water punched him in the chest and threw him into the corner. He rebounded, went for the source of the blast, but of course there was no one there to kill. They were too careful for that. The multidirectional hose that was set into a high corner of the wall shut off when Victor stopped moving, and he realized Stryker was on the comm; sounded as though he’d been shouting for a while.

“— _VICTOR!! VICTOR STAND THE FUCK DOWN! STAND—“ <zzzzhk>_

Victor said nothing—couldn’t speak, still burned with a rage that could slaughter the world, but he listened to that voice. Couldn’t have said why, even if he’d calmed enough to remember niceties like language. That was just the voice he listened to.

The trapdoor opened and Victor leapt out of the cell without aid of the rope. The way behind him closed immediately, sealing their precious Weapon X back in his prison. Victor stalked to the vault-style door and banged it with an open palm. Waited. Banged again.

“Not yet, Victor.” The voice came from overhead, clearer out of this speaker than the one in Logan’s cell, below. “You need to take a break. Shake it off.”

Victor glowered up at the camera. 

He wound up pacing a tight circle for a long fucking time. He kept looking at his claws, remembering the shining blades that sprouted from Logan’s fists. Stryker didn’t think he’d survive the process, but they were refining it even now. 

There’d come a time. There would. And by that time, he’d make sure Logan didn’t remember anything but _him._

~~~~~~~~~~

For some very sexplicit dubcon/noncon Victor/Logan, check out these other fics of mine:

  1. [**Blood is Forever**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/17477456)
  2. **[Poison](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646176/chapters/41611919)**



For an epic, dark adventure with tons of gay Wolverine sex:

  1. [**Part 1 Ghost on the Highway**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245922/chapters/40556258)
  2. **[Part 2 Back into the Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258645/chapters/40585418)**



**Author's Note:**

> This episode was _sin_ spired by [ Barbaricyawp's ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaricyawp/pseuds/barbaricyawp) Torture Tuesday prompts. **Read Barbaricyawp's delightful torments of MCU characters[HERE](http://barb-aricyawp.tumblr.com/tagged/torture-tuesday)**.
> 
> Tumbl me [HERE](http://subverbaldreams.tumblr.com) for more art and fics - I dare you.
> 
> Twit your distaste [HERE](http://twitter.com/SubverbalD).


End file.
